October 9, 2001

President and Adele Kupchella
Roger Thomas, Director of Athletics
Mike Stromberg, Ralph Englestad Arena
Lillian Elsinga, Dean of Students
Bob Boyd, Vice President for Student and Outreach Services
John Ettling, Vice President for Finance and Operations

Native American Programs Staff: Leigh, Linda, Mikki, Bridget, Melvin, Tim, Tammy, Diana, and Ardith

My friends and colleagues:

The purpose of this letter is to share my experience at the UND hockey game on October 5 and to let you know where I have come to stand on the nickname/logo issue. I thought about writing a letter to the editor of the Herald, but I really dont think the general public would care. After I saw the passion people had that night - for hockey, for the logo, for the "Fighting Sioux" name, and for Ralph Engelstad I do not believe there is anything I could say that hasn't already been said, that could change anyone's mind.

I believe that my experience and the treatment I received was unique to - and based upon - my heritage as an American Indian. I am an enrolled member of the Turtle Mountain Band of Chippewa. I am currently on leave from my position as program coordinator for Native American Programs at UND and I am working to complete my doctorate degree at UND.

For the third year in a row, I have a set of two season tickets for hockey. I enjoy watching the sport of hockey and feel I have a right to enjoy it and watch it just like everybody else. My husband was out of town, so I asked my daughters if one of them wanted to go to the game with me. Having heard the "Cher" rumor, my 15-year-old said she wanted to go. And, just like everyone else, we were curious. We wanted to see the laser lights, the scoreboard, and everything else 100 million dollars could buy. We decided to make it a fun "girls night out." I had heard about the t-shirt fiasco earlier in the day, so I pondered giving the tickets to my father and sister, who were also in town, but I had promised my daughter. We talked about how we knew people would probably be over-enthusiastic with their "Fighting Sioux" chants, but we were prepared to ignore it. We went there to enjoy the game, hopefully to see Marc Ranfranz (one of my students) dressed for the game, check out the food court, and just have fun together.

It started the minute we walked in the door...it seemed all eyes were on us. I felt like people were waiting for me to pull a protest sign out from under my jacket, or otherwise ruin their perfect night. To make things worse, we had the misfortune of sitting next to the Engelstad entourage, but it wasn't just that, it was the aura of the whole place. The crowd roared when Engelstad said, "May the logo and the Fighting Sioux name live on forever!" I was also appalled at the unbelievable lack of respect for human life and our country when the national anthem was sung and at least 50% of the crowd said home of the Sioux, instead of home of the brave, while the American flag and the date 9-11-01 flashed across the scoreboard. The best way I can describe the atmosphere is that it felt like we were at a KKK rally. Couldn't Chancellor Isaak, a learned man, come up with anything more appropriate and respectful to say than, "LETS GO SIOUX!"? What he was really doing, I felt, was proclaiming UND's victory over American Indian protests and people.

I will admit that I might have contributed to the people around me becoming angry when I didn't rise for the standing ovation given to Mr. Engelstad. I was not compelled to rise or applaud, nor was my daughter. We didn't verbalize negative thoughts or feelings, make faces, or gesture in any way. We simply did not stand, and I do not apologize for that.

Every time the nickname "Fighting Sioux" was mentioned or screamed, the people around us would look at us as if to say, "So there!" About five minutes into the game, I looked down at my daughter and she had tears welled up in her eyes. I said, "How about we take a break and go get something to drink?" We stopped in the bathroom first and she began to cry. She said, "I knew it was going to be bad, but I had no idea it would be this bad." She said she didn't think she could stand to be there any longer. I told my daughter there was no way they were going to scare me out of the place, but if she was uncomfortable, I would never make her sit through that. We decided to leave. It broke my heart when she said, "I know Im not a full-blooded Sioux or anything, but I feel like they're being mean to my grandmas." My daughter is Turtle Mountain Chippewa, as well as Cheyenne River Sioux, through her father's side of the family. When I took her to the bathroom, she told me an older man (who I found out in the morning was probably a member of the Engelstad entourage) glared at her like he "just hated" her. She didn't tell me when we were out there because she thought I might say something to him and he in turn, would be mean to me. I promised her I wouldnt say or do anything to cause a scene.

So, we had made our decision to leave. I helped her clean up her face, and we walked out of the bathroom with our heads up high, smiling at people we passed and getting another look at the place while we made our way to the front door. We got to the main entrance and as we passed by a silver cup trophy encased in glass, my daughter asked me what it was. I got closer to the glass when a woman in a green jacket approached me and said, "Is there something I can help you with?" I replied, "No, just looking at the trophy." I walked around the case to read the inscription around the top of the cup and she approached me again, "Can I help you?" And again, I said, "No, just looking." I believe that she was afraid I was going to break the glass. My daughter and I raised our eyebrows to each other and headed for the door, at the right side of the main entrance. The woman then was joined by a man in a green jacket and they both stepped between us and the door. She asked me for the third time, "Is there something I can help you with?" I said, "No, we're just leaving." She said to me, as though I were a child, "You mean you don't want to stay and watch the rest of the game?" I said, "No, we'd just like to leave." Then the man said, "How did you get in here?" I said, "Just like everyone else...with my ticket." Then the woman said, "Okay, but if you leave you can't get back in." I said, "That's okay, we're not coming back." Then she told us we had to push the door hard because of the wind and the man opened it for us and let us out. This exchange made me feel exactly the way I felt as a child, being followed around by store employees in the "Ben Franklin" (in the small town just outside the reservation where I grew up), thinking I was going to steal something.

The message we got that night was very clear...we were not wanted or even welcome there. I firmly believe that Mr. Engelstad and all who worship him, truly despise American Indians, based simply on our race. I felt hated, I was humiliated, and I was ashamed of myself for exposing my daughter to this frightening and hateful situation. I cried on the way home, while my daughter comforted me, as I had comforted her in the bathroom. We drove around a bit to settle down, but I cried again when I got home and had to tell my family what had happened, and then again in the morning when I told my oldest daughter about our night. I was mad at myself for letting them get to me, because I felt like I should have been stronger.

I have been working at UND in student services for almost ten years. My job is to assist American Indian students in any way I can to make their UND experience successful. A few of these students want to keep the name, others want it changed. I, like every other American Indian on this campus, in this city, in this state, and probably in the nation, have been asked many times what my position is on the UND logo/name issue. My response has been that the issue is much bigger than the name and logo, I experience racism on a weekly basis because of the color of my skin. There was a time when I didn't really care what the athletic teams were called. I just wanted the whole issue to go away. I simply wanted to do my job, assisting the students, and continue furthering my own education. I have never been able to understand why people are so attached to a name and logo that everyone cannot rally behind. I now have confidence that someday the name will change...it's just a matter of time.

Up until now, I hadn't personally experienced racism as a direct result of the name issue, but that changed immensely this past weekend. It is not my "style" to protest. I never wanted to alienate an administration which has been supportive to me throughout my years as both a student and an employee at UND, nor the students I serve who want to keep the name. I never wanted to bring attention to myself that will cause my children to face retaliation. But I do want to be perfectly clear on where I now stand on this issue. I feel the nickname and logo should be changed. I have, and have always had, only one reservation about making the change, and that is this: I worry that the minute the name is changed, my children and I will experience racism like never before. People are going to be mad at all Indian people regardless of their position on the issue. And while I feel that nothing can be done to erase what my daughter and I experienced Friday night, I just wanted to share yet another story about the racism that the "Fighting Sioux" name and logo perpetuates in this city.

Respectfully,

Donna Brown

[Ms. Brown is Program Coordinator for Native American Programs at UND]